Trah Bing is standing beside the reception desk on the first floor of the hotel. He’s a tall, forty-something man compared to the other Thai men working behind the long, translucent acrylic counter. He wears a lightweight blue suit and tie. His thick dark hair is slicked back on his head with product. To Sam Savage, he seems like a confident man who is proud of the services he is providing at the hotel.
“Can I help you, sir?” Trah Bing asks with a pleasant smile.
But, of course, Trah knows precisely who Sam is and why he’s standing before him in his jeans, lace-up jungle boots, and khaki work-shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way up to his thick biceps. Sam glances over both shoulders at the wide-open hotel lobby. If he were an architect, he’d describe the décor and set-up as post-mo
